Mariner had been careful in his choice of films and in the early days they had been pure escapism, anything to get her away from the horrors that Kat and her friends had endured. She had quickly developed a taste for the Ealing comedies, because, Mariner supposed, they were quaint and ridiculous and so very English. It was during those that he’d first heard her laugh. Since then they had progressed to meatier drama and contemporary thrillers, but he was careful to try to judge her mood and usually offered at least one alternative. It had encouraged him to broaden his horizons too, encapsulating costume dramas - a genre he normally went out of his way to avoid. And Kat’s tendency of late veered towards the light romantic comedy, which was far removed from Mariner’s taste, but he went along with it to indulge her. After the life she’d had she deserved some indulgence.
It was a good time to observe her, too. Often when she lost herself in the films that they were watching Mariner could tell her true state of mind. He’d talked at length about it to Lorelei, who had advised him to keep a close eye on her body language at this time. It had been a revelation. In the first few weeks Kat had positioned herself as far away from Mariner as she could, curled up tight and seemingly squeezing herself into the corner of the sofa. Gradually, over the weeks, through Alastair Sim and Margaret Rutherford, Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe, Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds, like a flower, Mariner had watched her unfold. More recently she would often choose to sit beside him, her long legs stretched out before her while she chuckled along. Sometimes, usually in response to some sarcastic comment about a costume drama, she would playfully punch him, and, if the tension was high, she would grab his arm and squeeze tight. It occurred to him once that this was what it might have been like if he’d had a teenage daughter.
Now Kat was beginning to make her own choices too, films that she had talked about with her work colleagues and wanted to see. He tried to remember which film it was she’d mentioned at the weekend. Then he saw it:
Girl with a Pearl Earring
. Mariner scanned the case. He didn’t hold out much hope: Colin Firth and Vermeer; it would be about as exciting as watching a Dutch Old Master dry. Still, if that was what she wanted. He picked up a couple of cartons of Häagen-Dazs as well and went to pay.
Mariner was pleasantly surprised by the selection. Notwithstanding the leisurely pace, the film was absorbing and beautifully photographed, but tonight it was Kat who was edgy and distracted from the plot, and a couple of times he had to remind her of what was going on. Every few minutes she would jump up to get something from the kitchen, take off her jumper, put it back on. Mariner began to wonder if she was having a relapse. Up until recently her mobile phone had been rarely used, but this evening it was like an extension of her hand as she continually texted her friends throughout the film. Mariner tried to assess her mood, but this wasn’t one of his strengths, especially where women were concerned. On the other hand, Kat didn’t seem unhappy. And for once, as soon as the film ended, she went up early to bed.
During the night, Mariner woke with a jolt. Something had disturbed him. For a moment, and not for the first time, he was disorientated, thinking he was in Anna’s bed at her old house in Harborne. Disappointment swept over him as his mind adjusted. He got up for a pee and walking back from the bathroom he heard the noise that had woken him, a terrible animal wailing. It was coming from Kat’s room. The door was ajar, as she always left it. After more than a year of imprisonment, she couldn’t bear the door to be closed. Mariner gently pushed it wider and went in. By now the sound had diminished to a whimpering, but he couldn’t judge whether she was awake or asleep.
‘Kat? Kat?’ Mariner said softly. She didn’t respond and her breathing was becoming even now. Mariner perched for a moment on the chair by the bed, uncertain about what he should do; he could never remember the best strategy for nightmares. Should you wake someone or leave them? If he did wake her and she was distressed how could he help? He wasn’t a stranger any more but a man in her bedroom at night was the last thing she needed. Also the sight and smell of her was doing things to him that he wished they weren’t. The curtains were open and in the moonlight he could see her bare shoulder and the strap of her vest, the curve of her breast. Suddenly instead of Kat he saw Anna’s head on the pillow. Kat murmured and stirred a little and, shocked by the power of his own imagination, Mariner stole out again.
Lucy and Will surfaced hours later to order a takeaway curry and were lying comfortably together on the sofa watching TV. But as they talked Lucy could barely stay awake. It was, she realised, the most relaxed she had felt for weeks.
‘I’m so glad you’re home,’ she said.
Will smiled lasciviously. ‘Mm, me too.’
For some reason the woman’s voice on the phone came back to her. ‘Really?’
‘Sure, I get to spend some time with my wife.’ He slid a hand under her robe.
‘You could spend even more time with her.’
‘Oh, yeah, how?’
‘Don’t go away again.’
Will withdrew his hand. ‘What?’
‘Joke!’ Lucy grinned, hoping he couldn’t tell that was only half-true. ‘It’s just that this is so nice.’
‘Maybe it’s this nice because I do go away.’
‘Hmm, could be,’ Lucy conceded. ‘Who were you out with last night anyway?’ she asked carefully.
‘Uh? Oh, just the guys in the band.’
‘Oh, I thought I heard women’s voices.’
‘We were in a bar. I guess there were probably some women in there.’
A note of tension had crept into his voice, but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘Who?’
‘I don’t know; just some women. What is this? Come on, honey, you promised you would never do this to me.’
‘Do what?’ Lucy was all innocence.
‘Interrogate me about where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing.’
‘I’m not interrogating you.’
‘Really? It’s how it feels. How do I know that you’re not hanging out with some guy while I’m not around?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Lucy protested. She tried to snuggle up to Will, but the atmosphere was broken and he got up.
‘Do you want a coffee?’
Lucy had no choice but to go along with it. ‘Yes, thanks, that would be nice.’
She heard him clattering around in the kitchen, but, quite abruptly, the sounds stopped. Did she hear him swear? Something he couldn’t find. Smiling to herself, she got off the sofa and walked through to the kitchen.
Will looked up as she came to the doorway. ‘Is there something you need to tell me?’ His voice seemed unnaturally calm; a stillness in the air before the storm broke.
Lucy’s stomach turned to lead when she heard his tone of voice.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked. Then she realised a drawer was open and several plastic-wrapped catalogues lay on the countertop. He was holding something in his hand, turning the small cardboard box over and over, while they both stared at it.
‘What’s this meant to be?’ He threw it down on the counter and it skidded towards her. It took Lucy a few seconds to work out what it was, but as her eyes came into focus she made out the words ‘Clear Blue’. Oh shit. She had meant to throw it away.
‘A pregnancy test?’ He was incredulous.
Despite herself, she blushed. ‘It came in the post, a couple of days ago. I meant to throw it away. It just arrived.’
‘What do you mean, “it just arrived”?’ He picked up the padded envelope it had fallen out of. ‘It has your name and address on it.’
‘Which they’ve got from some list somewhere. That doesn’t mean anything. It’s been happening all the time. It’s probably tied up with the phone calls.’
Will spread his hands, exasperated. ‘What phone calls?’ He was right. There hadn’t been any all evening.
Lucy moved across to pick up the offending item, and at the same time Will took a step towards her and, grabbing her arm, twisted it up towards him. Lucy gasped. ‘You’re hurting me.’
He leaned over her, staring into her eyes. ‘I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Lucy. We talked about this. We both knew where we stood, and now you’ve hooked me you think you can change your mind?’
‘Hooked you? What’s that supposed to mean? I still feel the same way as I did before we married. I’m fine about not having kids. Yes, I might have once wanted them, but now I’d rather have you. I told you that at the time and it’s still the truth.’
‘Which is why we have this in the house, is it?’ There was something in his eyes. He didn’t believe her. With his free hand he sorted through the catalogues. ‘Maternity clothes; nursery furniture? All addressed to you.’ Pushing her away from him, he scooped up the pregnancy test and threw the packet on the floor, before striding out of the kitchen. ‘I wish you wouldn’t lie to me, Lucy.’
Lucy dropped down to retrieve the packet as a wave of nausea hit her, and she had to crouch there for a moment while it passed. She daren’t tell Will about that; she knew just what he’d think. Getting slowly to her feet, she threw the Clear Blue into the bin in disgust, something she should have done the moment she received it.
She went back into the lounge but Will wasn’t there; she could hear him moving about upstairs. Following him up, she found him putting clean clothes back into his overnight bag. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked stupidly. ‘You can’t just walk away from this. We need to sort it out.’
‘We had an agreement,’ Will said coldly. ‘You need to give some thought to whether you want to stick with that.’ He hurried down the stairs and moments later the front door slammed.
Trembling with fear, Lucy heard Will’s van start up and pull out of the drive. As soon as it did, the phone rang and she cried out involuntarily, wrenching the line out of the wall socket to silence it.
CHAPTER SIX
The 999 call came into the West Midlands call control centre at eleven forty pm, the caller claiming to have seen a couple arguing what looked like violently, and concerned that the woman involved might be in danger.
‘I’ve just seen someone being attacked,’ he said.
‘Where are you, sir?’
‘The address is nineteen, Hill Crest. You need to get someone over there right away.’
‘Is that your address, sir?’ the telephonist asked.
‘No, it’s where the attack is taking place.’
‘Could you give me your name, sir?’
The caller ignored the question. ‘I saw him attack her, she fell on the floor, and now he’s gone out and she’s not answering her phone.’
‘Are you a friend or neighbour, sir?’ But the phone had gone dead.
Ten minutes later Lucy Jarrett’s doorbell rang. She peered out into the darkness. There were two emergency vehicles parked on the road, their lights flashing, and a group of people was gathered at her front door. What was going on? When the doorbell rang again, she opened the door cautiously. It was quite a party: two young policemen and a man and woman in the green paramedics uniforms, one carrying a bulky holdall.
‘Good evening, madam.’ The taller of the police officers spoke; he looked barely old enough to have started shaving, Lucy thought. ‘We’re just checking that everything’s all right. We received a phone call to say that a woman at this address was being attacked.’
‘What?’ Lucy was aghast. ‘They’re mistaken. My husband and I had a disagreement, that’s all. I’m fine.’
The officer peered behind her and into the hall. ‘Is your husband at home?’ he asked.
‘No, he went out. I think he’s gone to stay with a . . . a friend.’ Lucy realised how strange it must have sounded, but it was after all the truth. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’
‘You’re sure?’ the police officer asked again.
The paramedics exchanged a word or two, and were beginning to back away.
‘Really,’ said Lucy. ‘Who did you say phoned you?’
‘It was an anonymous call.’
‘Oh, God,’ Lucy blurted out.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ The officer was reluctant to go. ‘We could come in and check.’
‘No really, thank you,’ Lucy heard herself insist. ‘There’s no need. Goodnight.’
She watched as the two policemen reluctantly retraced their steps down the drive and back to their car, one of them speaking into his radio. Then she closed and securely bolted the door. After climbing the stairs again, she went to draw the curtains in the bedroom and saw a light upstairs in the house across the road. He wouldn’t, would he? Lucy didn’t think she could possibly sleep tonight, but after the wine she’d drunk she suddenly felt so tired.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Mariner asked Kat on Wednesday morning.
‘Sure.’ She seemed surprised by the question. Today she had scrambled some eggs and was eating them runny, the way she liked them.
Mariner had stepped into the kitchen to deposit his empty coffee mug. ‘You called out,’ he said. ‘In your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?’
But she shrugged. She didn’t remember.
Mariner was one of the first in the car park that morning. But, as he got out of his car and began to cross the compound, a woman called out to him. At first he didn’t recognise her.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said, when the penny had dropped. Stephanie looked older than he remembered and had clearly made an effort with her make-up, but in daylight she looked somehow different; not his usual type at all.
‘I brought you this.’ She handed him a plastic lunch box. ‘You need fattening up. I thought you were probably the kind of man who wouldn’t have time to prepare anything, and you need to eat.’
Mariner was both embarrassed and irritated by the presumption, but she’d clearly gone to some effort so he gave in gracefully. ‘Right, er, thanks.’ He took the plastic box from her. ‘How did you know where to find me?’
She touched the side of her heavily powdered nose. ‘Oh, I have ways. When do you finish?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Mariner truthfully. He’d just seen Tony Knox pulling into the compound. ‘It’s pretty busy just at the moment.’ He began moving towards where Knox was reversing into a space.